


The second movement is always andante

by NoContractTermination



Series: that a/b/o au where everyone lives happily ever after [1]
Category: NCT (Band), SM Rookies
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Gentle Sex, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Verse, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Some Plot, Vanilla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 19:05:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8501854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoContractTermination/pseuds/NoContractTermination
Summary: Taeil has some communication problems with his bandmates, and they don't want him to suffer alone.





	

They had rules. 

Some were irrevocable, under a zero-tolerance policy: no consent under the influence of drugs or alcohol; omegas couldn't give consent within 24 hours of their heats starting or ending; alphas had to take hormonal suppressants daily, omegas a different variety beginning a week before their heats. 

Some were vague: take care of yourselves; look out for each other; if something seemed funky, tell a manager. Or one of the three doctors that came by and checked on them every other week— two males and a female, one alpha, one beta, and one omega. If it was an emergency, call an ambulance. 

Everything else was pretty much fair game. No one said playing by the rules couldn’t be fun.

Compulsory schooling couldn’t cover everything, even if the sex-ed was advanced, positive, and vast in content. There weren’t Bad People and Good People, just ignorant people and educated people. There were people who could hypothetically take advantage of other people if a hypothetically ignorant person came in contact with another hypothetically ignorant person at the hypothetically wrong time. Thus, personality screening was part of the audition process: SM couldn’t afford to have liabilities, though a lot of it was that the employees and managers were good— or, educated people.

Moon Taeil barely passed that personality screening.

It was a while ago, and mostly kept secret outside of the group. It wasn’t that he was ignorant; he’d been told upfront in the first round, in front of a room of other hopefuls, that he was too shy, "hence, susceptible to being taken advantage of in certain dire situations." People communicated like that in the city— direct and with pleasantries purposely omitted, but not to the point of being lewd. Space was limited, and walls were thin. There were no secrets. But Taeil, being used to living under a suburban roof on an unnecessarily large plot of land where you knew your financial consultant better than you knew your neighbors, felt indecently exposed. His ears went hot, blood coursing through his body with uncomfortable vigor. Nonetheless, even weeks after having buried his copies of the audition paperwork under mounds of college acceptance letters, he’d gotten a callback. And after several rounds of intimate settings and uncomfortable silences, he’d been accepted just like all the other trainees.

"I know what changed their minds," Ten sang half-drunkenly one evening after the debut of NCT-U. Taeil shifted uncomfortably beside him on the couch; this was how they did afterparties here, alcohol scattered around the room like vacation souvenirs and ancestral memorabilia, while Mark— clearly a minor— worked on lyrics calm and sober at the breakfast table. If he were any less of a Good Kid (read: if he were Kim Donghyuk), he’d be sulking in a corner while the rest of them got themselves and each other shitfaced, but Mark never failed to impressively conform to any mould they poured him in. Currently, he was a shy and obedient little brother. 

Ten’s heat had passed a few weeks before, and he was dutifully enjoying himself while draped over Taeil’s shoulder like a feather boa. Ten continued mischievously, "I was there. Don’t you want to know?"

"Leave him alone," Doyoung called from the kitchen.

Ten scoffed and let his weight shift even more onto Taeil’s person. Ten, being mostly composed of muscle and all things good in the world, was heavy. "Goody two shoes," he muttered, waving off Doyoung like he tended to do. It was a familiar gesture at that point, and Taeil found himself copying it sometimes, which was a little horrifying. "Anyway, you know, it was Taeyong—"

"He never said he _wanted to know_ , asshole," snapped Doyoung, stalking over and actually annoyed at that point. He let out an exaggerated sigh, which admittedly made it a difficult to take him seriously. The corners of Taeil’s lips quirked into a small smile, which made Ten light up as if someone had just told him he won the lottery. Ten had a way of telling things like they were, while Doyoung’s cautious personality more often than not backfired on him and turned the atmosphere into centrifugal mush. 

"I think it’d be good for him— for all of us," Ten replied cheerfully. "Don’t you?"

"You don’t have to fix what isn’t broken," Doyoung said, his voice edging on stern.

This was usually Taeil’s position. He listened while they bickered on, sometimes about him, without strong feelings one way or another. But this time, Ten had planted a seed, and he knew it. You couldn’t just _not_ wonder about the person who ended up changing the direction of your life, especially when you’d been at the junction between a tunnel and a bridge, both express, both one-way. The feedback from the audition felt like the suspension bridge being raised against Taeil’s will, but apparently Taeyong had been the one to lower it again. "Tell me," said Taeil quietly, and the glint in Ten’s eye was obnoxiously visible, like a scene out of a movie. The cocktail of alcohols Taeil had consumed may or may not have played into it.

When Taeil sang, it was like he was a different person. He’d been told this on multiple occasions. Otherwise, he was stereotypically omega— _painfully_ so— almost too much so for SM, apparently. It had taken a lot of explaining to his parents that the city was probably safer; people living in dense formation valued community and nurture, while physical distance turned them into competitors, dangerous and wary. This was science, and it made sense. And Taeil had gotten his first whiff of it when SM Entertainment nearly rejected him because they _didn’t feel that they could adequately keep him out of danger_. 

"So the audition-listening-people came and talked to us about it— we have input on those kinds of things, you know," said Ten expertly, the slur in his speech nearly undetectable. "Especially golden child Lee Taeyong."

Doyoung, who’d been set on not listening, snorted at that. Ten had a way of attracting people— even other omegas— right into the clutches of his pleasant embrace.

"And when they told us they couldn’t accept you because of your personality," he continued, "Taeyong said—and I quote, 'Then what’s the whole point of screening out the predators if you just turn down people like him, too?' He really shut them up then. The whole room was quiet as a graveyard. It was pretty amazing."

"Because we were all sort of thinking it, but to say it takes a level of investment, you know?" added Doyoung, who shot Ten a glare in reply to Ten’s knowing smirk. Doyoung couldn’t resist the allure of showing off his arsenal of knowledge, and Ten was really good at setting metaphorical traps. "Not that there are _predators_ out there, like people don’t literally eat each other, but— you know."

Taeil nodded slowly. It was a lot to take in at once. _Lee Taeyong_.

"Anyway," said Ten. "You know we’re here for you if you need it. I mean, we pretty much adopted you after that."

"Not that we don’t love you of our own free will," Doyoung added emphatically, shoving Ten’s head to the side, to which Ten only laughed.

"He knows I didn’t mean it like that," whined Ten, flopping back on Taeil’s shoulder. "We want you to be happy. Not just Doyoung and me, the rest of them, too. Even Donghyukie."

—

And this was where Taeil was now, standing outside Taeyong’s closed door with his fist raised and poised to knock. But his hand seemed to be frozen in space-time, as if it had disturbed some universal physical balance and no longer belonged to him.

Some heats were better than others. Some people even had it easier. It depended on how personality, hormones, genes— all the uncanny intangibles that varied between people and made them so fascinating— coalesced into a single being. Ten emitted a strong scent even with suppressants, but it added to the alluring delicacy that was undeniably Ten: sweet, attractive, and universally desirable, even to fellow omegas. Ten smelled as if he were mildly in heat 24/7— his scent enveloped him like a perfume and followed him around like a bodyguard. Doyoung’s scent, on the other hand, was distinctly floral but in a wary sort of way. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant— just a little unpleasant (to Taeil at least), but apparently alphas couldn’t love it more— which admittedly was all hearsay via Ten. Jaehyun described it as a mix of honeysuckle and lavender— he was oddly specific about it. "It’s like potpourri," Johnny once said, "like in your grandma’s bathroom," which wasn’t exactly _appealing_ , but Taeyong once admitted he hated that he loved it, which made a little more sense and was what all the alphas in their dorm must’ve felt about Doyoung at some point.

Retreating back to familiarity, Taeil tended to lock himself in his room during his heat. When you got used to something, it became easy, even if it was difficult. Life was contradictory like that. If he didn’t ask for help, it wasn’t under the other members’ jurisdiction to force it on him— another unspoken rule. But Taeil hated asking for help.

Taeil jumped when the door swung open. Taeyong was standing in front of him in mid-step, obviously just as startled. "Oh, hey," Taeyong breathed, blinking his eyes blearily. "What’s up?"

"Um," said Taeil. "What’s up with you?"

The members were used to Taeil’s nonsensical replies, Taeyong possibly the most of all. Taeyong was the most overtly concerned about the other members, without the ulterior (though not necessarily evil) motives Doyoung usually had; thus, Taeyong asked the most questions. Thus, he was met the most often with Taeil’s brand of non-answers. "Nothing, I was just getting something to drink."

Right, it was 2:34am. Everyone was asleep. Taeil looked at his feet and muttered, "I— I need your help."

It must’ve shown in his tone of voice because Taeyong looked at him hard then, his eyes swirling into the vast, flat depths they always were. "You—you’re not…," Taeyong murmured, shifting his weight between his feet. "...You know the rules, right?"

Taeil flinched. Even with all of Taeyong’s gentle hesitation, clearly well-meaning, it felt like a low blow right to the fronts of his shins. " _Yes_ , I know the rules," he hissed, suddenly annoyed. "I’m not trying to get you in trouble." Maybe it was the implication that Taeil had no idea what he was asking for, or that he was being insubordinate in some way. Maybe it was that somewhere in his mind, Taeyong should’ve known him better than that.

Oh, another rule: no marking. No claims. It would: "Fuck everything up," according to Johnny, who'd been around for eight years, longer than the rest of them. And that sensitive sort of scar on your neck pulsed and sweated for the first few days, so it wasn’t like it could just be covered up with makeup. People would know exactly where to look, too. "I just," said Taeyong softly, suddenly very awake, "I don’t want to hurt you. No, I refuse to hurt you. I wouldn’t even if you wanted me to."

Taeil was being unfair. It suddenly seemed like a good (sheltered) idea to just turn on his heel and make his way back to his room as if none of this had ever happened. It wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary either— not for Taeil at least, who’d definitely had a sleep-walking phase at some point in his childhood. "I’m sorry," said Taeil. "It’s hard… for me to—"

"I know," Taeyong replied. He didn’t sound angry. "Don’t apologize. Thank me instead. It feels nice coming from you."

Taeil flushed up to his ears, and thank god it was dark. That was part of the reason why he’d chosen to do this at night, actually. Not that this was a whole _event_ ; it was just a chat, one bandmate asking another for a favor— a midnight talk, a heart-to-heart, like roommates in college. Yuta was always telling Taeil to be more open, anyway, but you could never satisfy the word quota of Nakamoto Yuta, who feared silence like the rich feared taxes: greatly and without much reason. Taeyong touched Taeil’s wrist as if asking permission, and Taeil thrust his hand forward into Taeyong’s, blindly weaving their fingers together in the darkness. "It starts like three days from now," Taeil said awkwardly. His voice sounded loud and obtuse and foreign, like it was taking up an unnecessary amount of space where it didn’t belong. But Taeyong always understood.

"Don’t let anyone else in your room until then," said Taeyong, and Taeil nodded even though Taeyong couldn’t see him. By _anyone_ , he meant alphas. Taeyong led them to the couch, the two of them awkwardly stumbling onto it together, hip to hip. How did he know not to turn on the lights? The sense of touch, vastly underestimated, could communicate amazing things.

The room wasn’t completely silent; cars sloshing through puddles in the gutter below interrupted the sound of their breaths, thin like chiffon and insect wings. They were accompanied by dogs barking and occasional footsteps wandering through the halls of their building as if listening in on them with nothing more than an honest, primitive curiosity. Finally, Taeyong said, "So have you, um, had sex before?"

Taeil couldn’t look at Taeyong. His senses were heightened this close to his heat, and whatever ambient lighting shone through their small windows outlined the sharp features of Taeyong’s face which became more and more distinct as Taeil’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. Instead, he stared straight ahead. "Yes, but not in heat," he said monotonously, which was the only way he could.

Taeyong responded with a mild "Okay," which was surprisingly soothing. Taeyong was probably trying to make this as painless as possible, and it was obvious this talk was somewhat rehearsed— as the leader and a hyung who regularly offered himself for assistance, he’d probably had to go over it a couple times with the other members. But the atmosphere felt like a parent giving their child the birds-and-bees talk, when 1. okay, ew, considering that Taeil was basically asking Taeyong to have sex with him in a few days, and 2. Taeil was older than Taeyong. 

Taeil let out a breath and felt around for Taeyong in the dark, his hand landing on Taeyong’s bare thigh. Of course— Taeyong had been wearing a t-shirt and boxers to sleep for pretty much forever. But right then, the sensation of Taeyong's warm skin went straight to Taeil’s groin. He just had to go with it, to commit. There was really no turning back.

With considerable effort, Taeil swung his leg over Taeyong, landing in his lap face-to-face, Taeil’s knees straddling Taeyong’s hips. And Taeyong said nothing when Taeil kissed him, but his eyes fluttered closed organically, naturally, as if he were just feeling his way through it without hesitation or plans. Taeyong’s lips were chapped from the air-conditioning unit blowing through the night, and his breath still tasted minty. In their sleep-induced laziness, they let their mouths open immediately against each other, jaws falling lax more from gravity than anything else. Taeyong felt natural and comfortable, and the suppressants and the premature timing helped them go slow and really feel each other. Taeyong said he liked it this way once, and he was right, really— it felt safe, almost familial.

They explored each others' mouths for a few breaths more, Taeyong tonguing the inside of Taeil’s lips like he was mapping them out and Taeil resting against him, weaving Taeyong's hair between his fingers. When they pulled back, Taeyong laughed, his breath fluttering against Taeil’s face in gentle puffs. "It’s nothing like this when it really happens, you know."

"Yeah," Taeil replied, still breathless, his heart _juuust_ starting to beat again. "I just thought I’d test you out first," he added cheekily, and Taeyong’s grip on Taeil’s hips tightened. 

"And how did you like it?" Taeyong hummed, nuzzling Taeil’s jawline.

"Not bad, I guess," Taeil said, shuddering when Taeyong flicked his tongue out right at the juncture where his neck met his collarbone. The rules said no marking, but all omegas were particularly sensitive there, and it felt good to tread the line a little. 

Taeyong laughed as his lips lingered near Taeil’s collarbone. "I’ll take care of you," he said, and suddenly, Taeil’s nose felt itchy, that familiar stinging feeling right behind your eyes like a sneeze but wetter and heavier. Taeyong said nothing and only held Taeil tighter when just one tear fell onto the back of Taeyong’s neck.

—

The next few days passed in a blur. Taeyong would sometimes text Taeil to meet him in the living room in the wee hours of the morning again and they’d sit there in the dark, talking about meaningless things that were suddenly given meaning by Taeyong’s curiosity. 

"How do you like it?" Taeyong whispered one night; without the weight of his eyes staring at Taeil, his voice sounded sultry and low. There was a time when Taeyong being an alpha was a foreign, surprising concept, though everyone else seemed to have accepted it with ease because it was all they’d ever known. Taeyong was doe-eyed, of average height, and somewhat physically weak, though he could talk daggers at Doyoung any time of the day. Taeil never noticed how deep his voice could get until now.

"Um," said Taeil, closing his eyes when he felt Taeyong’s fingers trailing his jaw. "I don’t know." They were building tolerance toward each other, relaxing each other with each passing evening. It wasn’t the conventional way to _court_ someone, but what, really, did conventional even mean? Was it Ten stalking loudly up to Johnny’s room and shoving Johnny against the door until he got the picture? Or was it Doyoung agonizing for weeks about making a move on Jaehyun because Jaehyun was younger than him by barely a year? And then gritting his teeth pridefully through an agonizing heat because no one was allowed to help him because he hadn’t asked? And _then_ putting Taeyong through rejection after rejection because Taeyong as leader had a responsibility to keep up the emotional and physical wellbeing of the rest of them? Everyone remembered that difficult stretch of time, where Jaehyun stood by helplessly as a hormonal Doyoung nearly punched Taeyong in the face just for talking to him. In retrospect, it was partly Jaehyun’s fault for not intervening at that point, too, but Jaehyun hated pushing the rules, and who were the rest of them, inexperienced and equally as bewildered, to lecture him about it?

"How do you do it when you’re alone?" Taeyong asked. He sidled up between Taeil’s legs, trailing his hands up and down Taeil’s arms. 

"I—" Taeil started, his breath hitching when Taeyong’s hands passed from his hips down to thighs. They agreed not to go any further than touching, committing as much of each others’ bodies to memory as possible. It was exciting and sensual, having Taeyong close to him like this, but in a completely different way than how being in heat felt. There was something lax about it, yet it was controlled, without sloppiness or desperation. "I take painkillers— and sleeping pills. I sleep a lot."

"You’re going to ruin your digestive tract like that," Taeyong murmured, and Taeil scoffed.

"Do you ever stop nagging?" he said, and Taeyong chuckled into Taeil’s chest. It was _romantic_ , but not in that possessive, wedded sort of way that chick-flick romances tended to be, spoiled by jealousy and misunderstandings. "I, um, touch myself."

Taeyong shifted against him, saying nothing at first. Then: "Go on."

Taeil was gripping at Taeyong’s shoulders hard enough to bruise. "With my fingers," he continued. "I finger myself."

"And does it feel good?" Taeyong said lowly, and Taeil couldn’t help but let out a whimper. Taeyong lurched forward in response, his lips searching frantically for Taeil’s but landing on his cheek, his jawline, the corner of his mouth before finding their target and latching on. Taeil moaned when Taeyong bit down on his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth until it was sore, and some undeniable, lewd part of Taeil’s mind was asking what if it were his pulse point, what if Taeyong claimed him like that completely on impulse on the couch in the living room while the rest of their bandmates were sleeping, what if Taeyong turned his life upside down _again_. There was something stimulating in letting another person have that kind of power over you. 

Taeil could’ve come in his pants just by thinking about that if he were in heat, but for now he held onto Taeyong for dear life as Taeyong mouthed at him, plunging his tongue into Taeil’s mouth again and again. Taeil, in his fervor, sucked on Taeyong’s tongue when Taeyong tried to pull back, and Taeyong breathed out through his nose and caged Taeil against the couch cushions. 

"There’s no… there isn’t this much… foreplay during the actual thing," Taeyong breathed, ripping himself away reluctantly and hovering above Taeil.

"Good to know," said Taeil, reaching his arms around Taeyong’s neck. "We’ll just have to make up for it now, then."

—

The first wave of it hit in the mid-afternoon, which was earlier than planned. It was oddly infuriating, the world not letting Taeil have this one thing when he’d been so insistent as to shoo Taeyong off to dance practice that morning, telling him he’d be fine until he returned. Calling off the whole thing seemed, once again, like a fantastic idea. Out of all the vices Taeil could’ve had, playing it a little too safe sometimes wasn’t the worst one. But that also wasn’t the entire issue.

Yuta had sensed it first. The kid always had a heightened awareness for all things communication and the metaphorical distance between people. His little nudge at Taeil’s shyness during their filming of NCT Life in Paju wasn’t just a suggestion— it was a warning. Because alongside the increased fondness for one another that came with living in a unit full of people in a building full of people in a _city_ full of people, was a caveat. 

Sometimes when Taeil was out alone getting coffee or shopping for groceries, there’d be a sudden lurch in his stomach, or a throbbing in his head. No one explained it to him because it’d become routine to them, and he obviously didn’t think to ask. It was only after overhearing Doyoung explain it to Kun, who relayed it to Sicheng, that the scattered, roughly cut pieces fit together.

It was a relatively new phenomenon, and no one really knew the nuts and bolts of why it happened, but that was the _proximity effect_ , whereby living together in physical and emotional closeness would cause you to absorb the feelings of your symbolic pack, making you stronger together than you could ever be apart. Experts concluded that a shared pain spread thin among family had vastly lower risks than the burden of tolerating it alone.

Sometimes Taeil got headaches when Doyoung was off in the practice room stressing about choreography, and sometimes it was nausea when Yuta snapped frustratedly at Sicheng for not understanding some off-brand Korean slang. The bodily effects didn’t seem to correlate, but it worked— really, it did.

Instead of brooding, Yuta would grunt and apologize, and Sicheng would take it mostly in stride. Then the rest of them complained about momentary stomach aches and earaches until everyone more or less got over it. Everyone was happier in the long run; things ran smoothly.

But the other caveat that impeded greatly on Taeil’s way of living was that there was literally no room for secrets. Secrets were a stain on the spiritual soul.

People like Yuta and Doyoung tended to complain about everything, so no one really paid attention to them at first. Then came Jaehyun, and Taeyong, and the rest of them one by one, until Donghyuk collapsed in the practice room one day and everyone went quiet. No one knew what to do or say because it was so unlike Donghyuk, who even then was shaking his head and attempting to laugh it off.

Yuta snapped then and shoved Taeil against the wall by his shoulder. In retrospect, it made sense since he’d been dealing with it the longest. He glared at Taeil with exhausted purpose, as if he pitied what he was doing, and let out some jumbled garb of "How have you not noticed?!" and "Get your goddamn shit together," until Jaehyun and Hansol pulled him away, leaving Taeil frozen and blank-faced against the practice room wall. Yuta was intimidating when he got angry, and freezing up in the face of danger had worked pretty great in life until now.

Of course that ended up just making it worse, and the entire group was physically out of commission for a few weeks as Taeil locked himself up in his room, only letting Sicheng in and out and wondering why the hell everything felt shitty but there was no trace of that _physical_ dropping feeling in the pit of his stomach. Why was he fine when everyone else was suffering? If only he could absorb the majority of that for himself. Seeing Sicheng toss and turn in his sleep with a wet towel over his forehead finally forced two and two together. Feelings were complicated, but now everyone else could feel them, too. Fantastic.

And that was what Taeil was dealing with currently. Yuta called it loneliness, but it was more like _emptiness_ : a constant hunger for companionship but the pervasive belief that being alone would always at least be easier. "Sometimes what’s easy now will end up biting you in the ass down the road," Ten said solemnly, while Doyoung floundered about for less crass way to put it only to realize that Ten’s words were both direct and poetic in their own way.

 _Come home_ , Taeil ended up texting Taeyong, to which Taeyong replied with only an exclamation mark emoji. 

To be honest, everyone in the dorm who was of legal age was at the very least incredibly attractive. Walking in on them lounging in the living room left to their own hobbies was like walking into a completely different world. But it was almost as if fate had chosen Taeyong.

When Taeyong rushed in, time stopped.

Hearing the bandmates on the other side of the bolted, deadlocked bedroom door in heat was one thing, but actually seeing Taeyong in front of him, side-lit and windswept, covered with a light layer of sweat, was like having the breath physically knocked out of him. Taeyong was all sinewy lines and broad, squared-off shoulders, his gaze mild yet predatory, concerned yet full of unbridled, shameful desire. And suddenly, there was growing pool of slick beneath Taeil, soaking through the back of his shorts and dripping down his leg. Taeyong’s gaze locked on it like a hawk.

For a while they were quiet, and then all Taeil needed to say was, "Come here," in a half-broken voice, and Taeyong was in front of him, crowding Taeil back against the bed and slipping his hands under Taeil’s shirt. 

It was always embarrassing, the amount of fluid Taeil produced during his heat, but Taeyong worshipped it like it was precious and fascinating. He slipped Taeil’s shorts off with ease and spread the slick across the backs of Taeil's thighs, his fingers liquid fire against Taeil’s skin.

Taeil’s knees buckled in response to Taeyong’s gentle yet impatient touch— Taeyong managed to turn something keenly distressing a hot, wanton sort of pleasure, and Taeil couldn’t help but want _more_. The flush spreading over his skin indicating his body’s mild objection to being spread out across the bed for Taeyong to see and touch.

Taeyong looked down at him, mapping the edges and curves of Taeil’s body with his eyes. And it would’ve been too embarrassing if he weren’t in heat, heightened senses intensifying Taeyong’s gaze into flames licking the surface of his skin. And the physical touches were ten times worse— every little shift made Taeil tense and jolt and flinch, pathetic tremors running through his body that refused to be held in. His body, hyperaware, responded like a voodoo doll; it was almost as if it wanted Taeyong to see its reactions, as if it were posing for Taeyong, as if it _knew_ how turned on Taeyong got in response, and Taeil’s mind was only along for the ride.

Taeyong’s voice came out thin, as if foreign and unused when he croaked out, "Turn around for me." Taeil shuddered at the command and met Taeyong’s stare as he twisted himself onto his hands and knees, and Taeyong’s hands never left him.

For someone usually so composed, Taeyong himself looked about ready to break. His eyes were wild with want and his hands trembled as he traced the hem of Taeil’s shirt, right where it met his hipbones. "I thought you said… there wasn’t much foreplay," Taeil gasped out, because Taeyong was so _close_ that there were palpable pulses of heat radiating from his body, but he seemed to be set on teasing Taeil, on making him wait, even in both their current states, the only thing keeping them apart the thrill of the chase.

Taeyong grinned his cheeky, lopsided smile laced with a hint of desire, and his hands swept over Taeil’s entrance without warning.

At that point, Taeil was wet enough to accept the stretch of Taeyong’s fingers without much resistance. He groaned and collapsed onto his forearms when Taeyong pushed two fingers into him, keenly aware of the sound of Taeyong kicking off his pants in the background. Taeyong's other hand spread Taeil and held him still as he scissored him open, and the stretch from inside— every movement, from the uncontrolled thrusts to the gentle strokes— felt so _good_ , like giving into a violent, sickly sweet craving. Taeyong’s fingers were calloused and firm, knobby as if ridged, and Taeil was so sensitive there that he could feel almost every bone in Taeyong’s hands working him open piece by piece.

Taeyong leaned over Taeil's back, enveloping Taeil completely with his body, and whispered, " _Mine_ ," in Taeil’s ear, his voice a mix between the whine of a petulant child and a low, sultry growl.

Taeil’s ears burned. Was it something biological that made it so hot when Taeyong wanted to have him all to himself, or was it just that Taeyong himself was hot when he did stuff like that, speaking in a voice all low and commanding. "Yours, _yours_ ," Taeil replied, clenching his teeth and crying out when Taeyong thrust his fingers forward harshly, hitting a spot deep inside that almost pushed Taeil over the edge untouched, precome spurting from his dick and dripping onto the sheets. 

And all the while, Taeyong was babbling on, skirting the lines of some far off world where circumstances where different, muttering nothings like, "You belong to me," and "I’m the only one who gets to see you like this." Taeil loved every moment it, shuddering and nodding blindly to Taeyong’s words, which was why Taeyong continued mumbling and mouthing right against where Taeil’s claim mark would be, tonguing at his nape, slick and hot.

When Taeyong grazed his teeth lightly against it, Taeil jerked so violently Taeyong had to hold him upright. "Hurry," Taeil breathed, arching up dangerously against Taeyong’s teeth. Taeyong pulled back with a click of his tongue and thrust his hand forward, shoving Taeil into the sheets. " _Fuck me_ , make me come," Taeil whined, and holy shit, what was he saying, in a voice desperate and high-pitched and foreign, as if it didn’t belong to him. He was close; being touched by another person was nothing like doing it yourself. 

"Then come," said Taeyong, pushing deep into Taeil’s leaking ass with three fingers, and on command, Taeil came with a scream all over the sheets, his legs collapsing spread against the bed. 

Taeil was breathing so hard it almost drowned out Taeyong panting right into his ear, and Taeil, boneless and pliant, blearily registered Taeyong gently maneuvering him onto his back and nursing his thighs and his dripping ass. Taeyong crawled up between Taeil’s legs and kissed him soft on the lips, and Taeyong was still hard, his dick slotted between their stomachs and rubbing against Taeil’s shirt. But he kept kissing Taeil’s mouth like he was fragile, brushing his hair from his face, with no sense of urgency, no impatience. 

Taeil’s face went red— the fleeting thought of Taeyong’s dick inside him again so soon was admittedly hot, and his dick twitched almost involuntarily in interest again.

He sighed shakily. "Taeyong," he said, exhaustion in his voice, and clear concern hardened Taeyong’s eyes for a moment. "Please."

"You sure?" said Taeyong, brushing Taeil’s fringe back.

There were cramps in half his joints, complaining loudly from being tensed in one position too long, so Taeil stretched them out languidly in response, never breaking gaze with Taeyong who was watching him again, eyes flicking back and forth frantically as if he didn’t know where to look and mouth drawn in a thin line. Taeil let his expression fall into a lazy grin. "I could do this all day," he said softly and wrapped his legs around Taeyong’s waist, urging him to continue. It would take a couple rounds to break the heat anyway, and there was satisfaction in pleasing Taeyong, in basking in his groans and possessive, almost animalistic growls. What would Taeyong look like when he came, would he be violent about it— loud and expressive, would he scratch marks down Taeil’s back, would he leave bruises on Taeil’s hips and thighs, would he even dare? Taeil flushed at the thought, his chest growing a blotchy pink as his blood rushed from place to place, powering all his high-strung nerve endings.

Everything was still blurry, from the edges of Taeil’s vision to the line where their bodies met, Taeyong’s milk-foam skin pouring into Taeil’s, which was more like a latte. Taeyong moved slow but steady, breathing out in harsh, long drags as he began to push inside Taeil.

Taeil whimpered when Taeyong was fully seated, involuntarily clenching as Taeyong groaned, squeezing Taeil’s shoulder with one hand and running his hand through Taeil’s hair with the other. Taeyong leaned over him, taking in every change of Taeil’s expression. The intrusion was... _breathtaking_ , overwhelming, foreign— _a lot_ but almost not enough: it was uncomfortable but not entirely painful or new, since Taeil had in previous heats made himself come by fingering himself before, and it was undeniably good in that shameful kind of way. But the stretch was still weird, intense, not to mention Taeyong’s weight and heat hovering over him, always watching and responding and adjusting. 

Taeyong, sensing Taeil’s discomfort, stroked the side of his face, cooing quietly at him. Taeil wanted to purr in response, or do something intentionally 'sexy' or something, you know, how Taeyong liked it, but all Taeil could do was sniff and squirm around in Taeyong’s arms, struggling to control his breath through his nose. 

"You okay?" Taeyong said slowly, though his muscles were tensed as if purposely holding himself back. 

"Yeah," Taeil breathed out, and apparently Taeyong liked that, just the natural keen in Taeil's voice. Taeil grasped Taeyong’s shoulders firmly. "Don’t worry about me," he said, squaring Taeyong off. "I can take it." It was only half a bluff: whatever Taeyong threw couldn’t possibly be worse than enduring it alone, out in hopelessly deep open water with no hint of shore in site. It was like how feeling hurt and pain were better than feeling nothing at all. Plus, Taeyong said he'd take care of him, and the fullness was already starting to feel as familiar as Taeyong's gentle grasp on Taeil's elbow and the way he rubbed soothing circles into Taeil's lower back.

Taeyong nodded and start thrusting shallowly, eyebrows knit in concentration, teasing and grazing Taeil’s prostate but not quite hitting it, and Taeil started to twist in Taeyong's arms, asking for more. "Please," Taeil whimpered, and Taeyong glanced at him again, afraid he was hurting him. When Taeil arched his back and bit his lip, murmuring, "Please, just let yourself go," Taeyong nodded and breathed deep, pushing himself into Taeil in one fluid motion and hitting Taeil's prostate head on. 

"Fuck, _fuck_ , Taeyong-ah, fuck me," Taeil stammered desperately, yelling a drawn-out wail when Taeyong slammed into him, sending tremors through Taeil’s entire body. And that was when Taeyong pulled out and grabbed the backs of Taeil’s thighs with a grip that would bruise. Taeil gasped; Taeyong was folding him in half with a strength he didn't know he had, and fuck, that was hot as hell. Taeil reached up blindly for Taeyong’s face and jerked him down for a kiss that barely muffled Taeil’s scream.

Taeyong's thrusts were getting out of rhythm and Taeil arched up to meet him, pulling him halfway down. Taeil threw his arm over his mouth blearily but Taeyong pushed it away, muffling Taeil's screams with his mouth instead. Their kisses were sloppy and wet, mouths hanging open against each others'. Taeil was close again and too drained to hold himself back, and Taeyong's eyes were closed, his eyebrows furrowed together when he finally shuddered and groaned low and loud, falling down onto Taeil after he came. Taeil opened his mouth in a broken sob, coming again so hard it was almost painful. Taeyong stuttered inside him, coming as well while his knot, diminished in size by the hormonal suppressants, collapsed.

—

Taeil woke up to soft voices nearby.

"… clean?"

"Yes."

"You… him fresh clothes?"

"Of course."

"Is that water?"

"Yes."

Taeil smiled slightly at Doyoung’s indignant huff. "You’re good, hyung."

Taeyong, whose voice was closer, replied, "What did you expect?"

"True," said Doyoung, closing the door softly while Taeil’s eyes fluttered open to dim sunlight.

Taeyong was watching him, his chest rising and falling in time to his breathing. He smiled at Taeil without saying anything— being spoken to right after waking up was one of Taeil’s pet peeves, and Yuta and Jaehyun knew but always greeted him cheerfully anyway just to spite him, while Doyoung did it out of habit. 

After a few moments of simply taking Taeyong in in all his freshly washed, just-woken-up softness without the blur of hormones and delirious heat, Taeil mumbled, "How long has it been?"

Taeyong hummed. "You slept for 16 hours."

Taeil groaned and closed his eyes again while Taeyong brushed his bangs from his face.

"How are you feeling?" said Taeyong softly.

"A little groggy," Taeil replied truthfully. "Sore." Taeyong bit his lip and a slight flush fell over his cheeks, and Taeil smacked his shoulder. "Don’t get cocky," he hissed, but Taeyong was already grinning.

"Was it better?"

Taeil squinted, rubbing his swollen eyes. "Better than what?"

"Being alone," Taeyong said even softer this time, his eyes searching Taeil’s face for approval. Taeyong might have been the softest alpha Taeil had ever met, and for that, Taeil was endlessly grateful, though he’d be hard pressed to admit it.

He squeezed Taeyong’s hand reassuringly. "Much better," Taeil said, rolling onto his stomach and breathing in the scent they left against the pillows.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry all i can write is pwp _(:3｣∠)_ ok this has a little bit of background/plot but that's because i might turn it into a series with other pairings. wanted to make an a/b/o verse but keep it as light/positive/optimistic as possible, otherwise everything else that makes sense canon/real world compliant is canon compliant. polyamory tag is because it's implied though not actively present in this fic. anyway 2tae is soft pls protect them
> 
> ((and thanks as always for reading!!))


End file.
